


Imagine It Was Us

by FuryRed



Category: X-Men (Alternate Timeline Movies), X-Men (Movieverse), X-Men - All Media Types
Genre: Angst, M/M, Pining, Post-Canon, Regret
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-12
Updated: 2017-08-12
Packaged: 2018-12-14 12:01:37
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,802
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11782749
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FuryRed/pseuds/FuryRed
Summary: After the events in Cuba, Charles comes to Erik.He keeps coming to him, almost like he and Erik are stuck in some sort of endless cycle that neither one of them can hope to get out of.





	Imagine It Was Us

 

 

It’s like this.

There’s a gunshot going off in Erik’s head. It’s been there since the day Erik’s mother died, since the day he stood in a room with a man who would go on to torture and abuse him, a man who destroyed his innocence, a man who took his life away. The sound is deafening, ringing in Erik’s ears, constant and invasive. It follows Erik across Europe, provides background noise as he dispatches dozens of faceless Nazis, as he kills and maims for information, looking for Shaw.

Erik assumes that once Shaw is dead the noise will stop, but it’s still there now- the same, but different somehow. Now when Erik hears the noise he doesn’t think of a sparsely furnished office, or a man with cold, calculating eyes, or the sound his mother made as she took her last breath. He thinks of white sandy beaches, a clear blue sky, and someone who has meant more to Erik than anyone else ever has, slumping to their knees in agony.

As Erik hears the noise he remembers falling too, reaching for Charles, holding him, pulling him into his arms. Charles is heavy and pliable, moving where Erik makes him, and looking up at Erik like he is searching for answers that he cannot hope to find. There are words exchanged, words that make sense at the time but become questionable as the days and weeks go on, until it gets to a point where Erik thinks of those words and all he feels is regret.

When Erik dreams, the gunshot is there too. It rings in his ears as he writhes in bed, thinking of Charles, remembering him, wanting him. Even now Erik cannot fully understand why he chose to leave that day. In a logical way it made the most sense- it was a way to avoid punishment at the hands of the CIA, it was a way to ensure the future of the mutant race, it was a way to gain freedom- a life unrestricted by Charles’ moral expectations. But when Erik is not being logical, when he allows himself to _feel_ , just for a moment, he knows it was the wrong decision.

Erik’s heart tells him the truth, because as he wakes it is pounding, beating fiercely beneath his ribcage as he slips from dreams of Charles. Erik sits up in bed, bare chest beaded with sweat, and remembers Charles there, remembers Charles’ lips softly pressing to every one of the scars on Erik’s chest; mouth moving in reverence like he hoped to blot them out. They were together in nameless hotels and motels across America, they were together at the CIA base and at the mansion, but now they are not. Erik doesn’t know where Charles is now, he only knows that he’s at least still alive. No thanks to Erik.

As Erik sits up in bed, breath stuttering from wounded lungs, he looks around the small, dingy room he’s sleeping in and remembers the one he occupied at the mansion instead, the one that ended up feeling like the first home Erik had in years. When Erik would sleep in that room he would rarely do so alone, and consequently he has become accustomed to waking to the sound of his door opening, and Charles slipping inside.

On this occasion that’s exactly what happens.

For a while Erik is just sitting there, staring over at the open window next to the bed, listening to the soothing sound of waves crashing outside, and then he turns and sees Charles. Charles enters looking as beautiful as he has always done- clean and warm and comforting, very much like some heavenly vision. The blue cardigan Charles is wearing is one of Erik’s favourites, particularly as Erik remembers once laying Charles down upon it in a grassy field, fucking him with aching slowness until Charles moaned and came, and smirking privately as Charles later blushed and told his sister that he must have lost the cardigan somewhere whilst he and Erik were out on their walk. Logic tells Erik that it cannot be the same cardigan, but he accepts its presence nonetheless.

“I didn’t think I’d see you again…” Erik says quietly.

It’s true. Although this has happened on numerous occasions since Cuba, every time feels like it should be the last.

Charles doesn’t respond, he just walks over to the bed purposefully, and as Erik opens his mouth to speak again Charles lifts his hand and presses a single finger to Erik’s lips to quiet him.

“Ssssh, darling- let’s not talk”, Charles whispers.

Erik feels his heart ache at the merest sound of Charles’ voice, at the soft comfort it provides- more than Erik deserves. Erik can’t stop his hands from shaking, particularly as Charles trails his finger slowly across Erik’s top lip, before sliding his hand into Erik’s hair as Erik closes his eyes and sighs and revels in the moment, in just the feeling of _Charles_.

It makes it sadder, somehow, that Charles is here. Although it’s everything Erik has ever wanted it only serves to remind him of everything they could have had, and as Charles steps closer and straddles Erik’s waist on the bed Erik can’t help but whimper softly, feeling both lost and found.

“It’s alright, Erik…” Charles says softly, pressing a kiss to Erik’s forehead, his cheek, both his closed eyelids, and eventually his mouth. The feeling of Charles’ lips on Erik’s mouth is so familiar, so perfect, so right, and it prompts Erik to finally wind his arms around Charles’ waist, pulling Charles against his body. Though Erik knows this moment cannot last, knows that it is something false and fleeting, for a time he consents to just take what he has, and to savour it.

As they kiss Erik trails his hands over Charles’ body, smoothing up strong thighs, grasping lush buttocks, palming through trousers at a cock that is already hard and urgent. With dextrous fingers Erik makes light work of the cherished blue cardigan Charles is wearing, throwing it haphazardly across the room before beginning to unbutton Charles’ shirt as he draws his mouth slowly along the same path as his hands. Charles’ skin is soft and yielding, adorned with a constellation of freckles that are almost as beautiful as the stars outside, and Erik has committed every one to memory. It’s for that reason that Erik keeps his eyes tightly shut, knowing without seeing what should be there.

When Charles’ chest is bared Erik then turns his attention towards Charles’ trousers, fumbling with the metal button and zip until they are unfastened, before pulling Charles’ trousers and underwear off at the same time as Charles shifts to assist. As soon as Charles is bared Erik finally opens his eyes, looking at a face that is kind and considerate and thoughtful, a face that has told Erik so many times how valued and important he is, though Erik never dared to believe Charles’ words for more than a minute. It’s not that Charles would ever lie to Erik, rather that it is difficult for Erik to break down the walls that he has built up around his emotions for so many years. Occasionally there were times when it seemed like Erik might do it though, but those days are gone now, like so many things.

“I’ve missed you…” Erik murmurs.

Charles’ expression shifts into a small smile. “You saw me yesterday”, he says. Erik opens his mouth to respond, but before he can get any words out Charles is kissing him again, disrupting Erik’s objections with a passionate embrace.

The temperature in the room is too warm even with the window open and the ceiling fan above them does little to dispel the heat, but regardless Erik pulls Charles’ warm body against his own, feeling like he needs the fire within Charles’ veins to remind him that he’s still alive. Charles clings on as Erik shifts back so that he is propped up against the headboard, only moving away for a moment when Erik reaches to pull down his underwear, freeing his large cock. Within an instant Charles’ hand is on it, stroking firmly and with more vigour than Charles would usually display. The Charles that Erik knows favours slow, passionate embraces, but this time he is rather more assertive in his actions, clearly chasing a release that has been promised for some time.

After a short while Erik pulls Charles close once more, so that he can hold Charles and kiss him and caress him, hands trailing over soft, smooth skin that yields to his touch. By the time Erik’s fingers are slick with lube Charles is begging for it; writhing in Erik’s lap as Erik trails his fingertips around Charles’ hole and pushes inside, eliciting small moans and gasps that Erik envelopes with his open mouth. Charles shudders as Erik works him open, as Erik preps him like he has so many times before. And then, once Erik is satisfied, he removes his fingers and lines up his cock instead.

Without a word Charles repositions himself and sinks down onto it, pupils blowing wide as he impales himself on Erik’s cock. Erik wraps his arms around Charles’ waist and presses his face into Charles’ chest, and thinks about how he has never felt as complete as he did in all those moments when he and Charles would join together in ecstasy. Back then it felt like a gift to hold someone so pure and so perfect, to be given their love with no expectation of retribution. Now it feels like a curse- like an ongoing torment, and a punishment for past sins.

“Erik…” Charles groans. “Erik, look at me…”

Erik’s eyes snap open to regard the kind, pale face that haunts his dreams, that holds him and keeps him without touch. Charles’ eyes are worn and sad. They speak of months of hardship, of fighting a battle that cannot possibly be won. When Erik holds Charles and thrusts up into him the eyes shimmer, like the fragment of a mirage, like the blue fire of gas flames. Erik closes his eyes once more, and stays where it is safer.

It is only for a short while that Erik can tolerate the situation as it is, before he is seizing hold of Charles and rolling him onto his back so that Erik can pin him down into the mattress and fuck him more forcefully. Erik needs this release, to thrust into Charles and make him cry out, to entwine his fingers with Charles’ own and push his hands down into the mattress. Charles lies prone there, moaning as Erik fucks him, lifting his face for a kiss but being left wanting, for Erik knows that the more he kisses Charles the more it will begin to feel like ash in his mouth, like sand on a beach ready to be washed away by the rising tide.

As Erik fucks Charles he feels his knees begin to shake, his heart begin to pound, his mouth begin to dry. In a moment it will be over. It a moment it never will have happened at all. Erik dips his head and kisses Charles forcefully, smearing sorrowful kisses all over Charles’ face as he rolls his hips and groans, driving his seed into Charles as he comes. The shaking is at its worse now. The gunshot is sounding in Erik’s head. And as he shudders through his orgasm Erik presses his face into Charles’ neck, face damp with the manifestation of regret, and whimpers: “I’m sorry, Charles, I’m sorry…”

For a while afterwards they lie there, heartsick and heavy. Erik listens to the sound of Charles’ pulse, feels Charles’ chest rise and fall with each sacred breath. Erik wants this to be forever, wants Charles with him always, but he knows he cannot have it. Two months ago he shot Charles with a bullet, deflected it into his spine on magnetic fields, and now nothing is the same anymore.

When Erik rolls off and shifts over to the edge of the bed he hears it, the same words that are uttered every time:

“We can’t keep doing this”.

Erik’s shoulders slump with a sigh, caving in on himself as he sits on the edge of the bed with his back to Charles. It would be easier if they didn’t talk afterwards, if they were just able to keep up the pretence. Why does it always have to end up this way?

After a moment, Erik replies:

“You came to me”.

With the words, Erik turns to look over at Charles. He is sat up in the bed, back propped up against the headboard, sheets drawn up to his chest. He looks sad. Desperate. His blue eyes are a shade too dark. She could never get that part quite right.

“I mean it, Erik. We can’t keep doing this. This is… this is wrong”.

“I didn’t start this”, Erik bitterly replies, his face twisting in a scowl. He never asked for this. Though he didn’t stop it he never asked for it either.

The gunshot is at its loudest as Erik turns away and gets up from the bed, walking over towards the bathroom on legs that tremble but do not give out, not this time. The sound is deafening, deadly, destroying. It stops when Erik hears the words.

“Charles is gone”.

Erik stumbles, uses the frame of the bathroom door to steady himself, and turns back to face the bed. Before him, Erik’s nightmares become manifest. The soft, comforting form of Charles’ body shifts, turns pale blue and lingers for a moment, like he is dead. Sometimes Erik thinks it would be better if he was. Then, the transformation continues, the skin becomes scales, the freckles disappear like stars dying, and Charles is gone. He’s really gone.

“Charles isn’t coming back”, Raven says. “He’s stuck in some hospital somewhere, paralyzed from the waist down. He’s not coming back to you, Erik, not ever. You need to stop pretending. You need to face facts”.

Erik scoffs, the sound bitter and mocking. “Who’s pretending?” he asks, looking pointedly at Raven’s blue form.

In an instant Raven’s expression crumples, caving in. She drops her gaze and lets out a sound that sounds suspiciously like a sob, shoulders shaking uncontrollably. She has never seemed more like a child.

“This is the only way you’ll let me be close to you…” Raven whispers, and Erik hates her. More than that, he hates himself.

“I’m going to take a shower. I expect you to be gone by the time I get back”, Erik says, cold and unfeeling. He is back to being that man again, that monster, that same person who murdered and mutilated countless people; that broken soul who felt nothing but rage and pain for years, until suddenly there was light, until suddenly there was Charles. He pulled Erik from briny depths and saved him. He gave Erik life and love. He didn’t deserve what happened to him.

“We can’t keep doing this…” Raven says again, almost like she is trying to convince herself. “I can’t. I won’t”.

Erik hears her words as he steps into the bathroom and closes the door firmly behind himself. Maybe she means it this time. Maybe she has finally reached her breaking point. Erik knows he reached his own breaking point months ago, when he scooped Charles up in his arms, pulled the metal from beneath his skin, felt the severing of something that could never be fixed. Anything after that is inconsequential. Nothing can hurt as much as that moment.

In the room outside there are a series of sounds- the mattress creaking like someone is getting up, footsteps on the wooden floor, a muffled sob that Erik pretends not to hear. By the time Erik registers the sound of the door closing he is standing in front of the bathroom sink, looking in the mirror and not recognising what he sees.

In his mind, Erik remembers Charles’ face looking back at him. He remembers Charles smiling, laughing, telling Erik he was important, telling Erik he had value. Erik remembers the way Charles’ eyes would grow brighter when he was excited, the way his voice would be so soft and so soothing when he spoke, the way his mouth would tremble as he came. In the mirror Erik’s eyes are haunted, dark circles betraying months of restless sleep punctuated by fitful dreams. In the mirror, the reality of the situation is undeniable. Erik is alone, he has destroyed everything he ever had with Charles, and he will never see him again.

The gunshot is deafening. Erik wishes he could block it out.

Maybe one day he will.

**Author's Note:**

> Please forgive me for not tagging more accurately, I didn't want to spoil the twist.


End file.
